On a chilly April afternoon in Worcester, 17-year-old Felix Alexander took a lonely walk that he would never return from. For years, Felix had been the target of relentless bullying cruel taunts at school, vile messages online all stemming from one trivial thing: he was not allowed to play a popular video game at age 10, a fact that bullies seized upon.
By the time he was a teenager, what began as playground unkindness had snowballed into a campaign of isolation and abuse. Classmates he had never even met were attacking him on social media. He struggled to make friends as others shunned “the most ‘hated’ boy in the school”.
Felix’s once-bright spirit was slowly eroded by this cruelty. On that April day in 2016, feeling utterly alone and convinced that no one cared whether he lived or died, Felix stepped in front of a train and ended his life.
His devastated mother, Lucy, later wrote an open letter pleading for a change: “Be that one person prepared to stand up to unkindness. You will never regret being a good friend,” she urged other children. In Felix’s story lies a stark lesson, when kindness is missing, tragedy fills the void.
Felix was not the only young life destroyed by a lack of kindness. In London, a 14-year-old girl named Mia Janin similarly felt the lethal weight of bullying.
Sensitive and creative, Mia became the target of a toxic Snapchat group run by boys at her school. They mocked her looks, spread doctored photos, and flooded her with nasty comments.
Friends later recounted that in the months before her death, their little clique of bullied girls had grimly nicknamed themselves the “suicide squad” a heartbreaking sign of how hopeless they felt.
One day in March 2021, after yet another humiliation, Mia asked a friend, “If you died would people care about you the next day?” That night, unable to see an end to the torment, Mia took her own life.
These stories repeat in different forms across the country: a boy quietly suffering cruel banter until he cannot go on. A girl taunted on social media until she believes life is not worth living.
Every youth suicide linked to bullying is a story of kindness that could have been. A life that might have been saved by one compassionate friend or bystander speaking up.
Not every teen victim of bullying hurts only themselves; sometimes their pain turns outward in explosions of violence. In the United States, school shooters have often claimed to have been bullied or excluded by peers.
The infamous Columbine High School attackers, for example, were reportedly marginalised and taunted by other students. A toxic environment of unkindness that helped fuel their deadly rage. Of course, bullying is never an excuse for murder, but it is notable that cruelty begets more cruelty.
A youth who knows only mockery and isolation can begin to see the world as hostile, and in rare but horrific cases, may lash out. We saw an example of this when Nicholas Prosper, deprived of kindness and full of anger, plotted a massacre at his former school.
A plan thankfully foiled before it could be carried out. Had someone reached that him with genuine kindness and support earlier, perhaps his path would have been very different.
The absence of kindness is not just painful. It can be dangerous. It creates a void where empathy should be and in that void, violence and despair find fertile ground.
When One Kind Act Makes the Difference
If the lack of kindness can kill, we must remember the flip side: the presence of kindness can heal, disarm, and save. Consider the remarkable turnaround of Arno Michaelis, a former neo-Nazi skinhead in the US.
As a young man, Arno was filled with hate and anger, lashing out at everyone unlike him. Why? Deep down, he was an “angry, lonely kid” desperate for identity and belonging.
The white supremacist movement preyed on that emptiness and seduced him with a false “family” bound by hate. For seven years, Arno spewed racist violence. What finally broke this cycle?
Not threats, not prison but simple acts of human kindness. While working at a job, Arno encountered people he once swore to hate: a Jewish boss, a lesbian supervisor, Black and Asian coworkers.
Instead of shunning him, these colleagues treated Arno “with kindness when he least deserved it, but most needed it.” Their compassion reached a part of him that hate could not touch. “That’s what undid me, in the best way,” he recalls.
Their kindness sparked an empathy and self-reflection that years of confrontation had not. Eventually, Arno found the strength to leave the extremist life behind. He later wrote, “I live with deep regret… but I know I can never undo it. What I can do is work to prevent more pain,” now devoting his life to helping others leave hate groups.
One of the first things he teaches? The power of kindness. Arno’s story shows that even a hardened heart can soften when met with unexpected warmth. A smile, a friendly word, simple respect these small gestures can add up to lifesaving change. It was true for him and it is true for countless youth: kindness is the first step on the road away from violence and self-destruction.
Another powerful example: a quiet intervention on an American school campus. In 2019 in Oregon, a high school student came to class with a shotgun, intending to harm others or himself.
It could have been another school tragedy but it was not, because of one man’s kindness. When the football coach, Keanon Lowe, saw the armed teen in the hall, he did not tackle him or shoot him. Instead, Lowe spoke gently, disarmed the student, and then did something extraordinary: he wrapped the crying teen in a bear hug and just held on.
Security footage of that hug went viral as a symbol of compassion under fire. The student’s life was spared, and no one was hurt. Later, the coach said, “I felt compassion for the kid… I told him I was there to save him.” That is the transformative power of kindness in action.
In a literal sense, Lowe’s empathy disarmed a potential killer. It is hard to measure how many acts of violence have been averted by similar compassion because when kindness works, nothing happens.
The bullying stops before a suicide note is written. The potential attacker decides to walk away instead of retaliating. The depressed teen finds a friend to confide in instead of a path to self-harm. These are the quiet victories of kindness we may never hear about but they are happening every day.
Filling the Void with Kindness
Bullying and cruelty persist not because young people are “bad,” but often because they themselves are hurt, insecure, or following negative peer examples.
As the saying goes, “hurt people hurt people.” To break this cycle, we need to fill the void in these kids’ lives with something positive. A sense of empathy, belonging and self-worth that makes cruelty unthinkable.
Kindness is both the antidote and the prevention. When a young person feels valued and accepted, they are less likely to lash out or target others. And when a youth has learned to empathise to put themselves in another’s shoes they are far less likely to bully or tolerate bullying.
Cultivating kindness in youth is not a one-time lesson. It is a culture. It starts at home. Lucy Alexander, Felix’s mother, urged parents: “Please take an interest in what your children do online… I have been shocked by the ‘nice’ kids who were cruel to another child”.
Parents must model kindness in their own behaviour not gossiping harshly about others, treating the waiter with respect, showing compassion in daily life.
Kids absorb those values. Just as importantly, parents should notice and praise kindness in their children. Catch them in the act of being good: when they share with a sibling, comfort a friend, stand up for a classmate. That positive reinforcement makes kindness “cool” and normal. Families can also create space to talk about feelings and empathy. Something as simple as a nightly check-in “Who did you help today?” or “Did anyone help you?” keeps kindness on a child’s mind.
In schools, structured programs and spontaneous initiatives both make a difference. Many schools have started anti-bullying campaigns that emphasise kindness. “Kindness walls,” where students post sticky notes of compliments or thanks, are a popular example, transforming hallways into galleries of positivity.
Some schools celebrate “Random Acts of Kindness” week, challenging students to do as many kind deeds as possible. Research shows such programs are more than feel-good fluff. They can reduce bullying.
Studies found that students who performed acts of kindness became more inclusive and even “more popular” among peers. Kindness, it turns out, is contagious.
When one student starts a chain reaction of kind acts, it shifts group norms. Teasing and exclusion no longer get laughs. They get frowned upon. Over time, a kind culture crowds out the cruel one. In classrooms, teachers can integrate empathy exercises into lessons.
For instance, English classes might read stories from the perspective of outsiders or bullying victims and discuss how characters feel. Role playing exercises can let students practice responding to bullying with support for the victim.
And critically, schools must have clear, enforced policies against bullying and a means for bullies to reform. Many bullies are themselves struggling. Rather than simply punish, schools can provide counselling and require bullies to make amends, a restorative justice approach rooted in empathy. The message should be: this community stands for kindness, and we will help anyone willing to change.
Peer mentors and role models also play a huge role. Teenagers listen more to each other than to adults. Programs that empower older students to be “kindness ambassadors” or peer mentors to younger ones have shown success.
When a respected teen openly denounces bullying and reaches out to loners, it inspires others. On the flip side, youths involved in bullying as perpetrators or bystanders may turn around when they hear the story of someone like them who chose kindness instead.
Many anti-violence youth programs invite former gang members or victims of bullying to speak about how kindness from someone saved them. These real-life stories resonate far more than lectures. For example, a reformed London gang member might tell an assembly how, after he was stabbed, it was the kindness of a nurse and the tears of his mum that made him leave gang life and implore students to “choose kindness over violence.”
Communities at large should not underestimate their influence. A neighbourhood that celebrates kindness through community service opportunities for youth, public praises for good deeds, and adults who intervene in street bullying to creates an environment where positive behaviour is the norm.
In Luton, a program called “Boxing Saves Lives” works with at-risk youth, teaching them boxing skills and the discipline of respect and kindness. The founder notes that much gang crime stems from anger and pride, where teens feel they “can’t lose face” over a slight.
By channelling aggression into sport and showing them “not every fight needs to be fought”, the program replaces macho cruelty with camaraderie and self-control. The result? Teens who might have been stabbing rivals are instead sparring with friends in a ring and hugging after a good match.
Finally, let’s not forget the everyday power of peer intervention. There is a tendency to stay silent or look away when someone is being bullied, out of fear of becoming a target. But those who find the courage to speak up save lives.
As Lucy Alexander said, “You will never regret being a good friend”. If you see bullying, be that one friend, the one who sits next to the lonely kid at lunch, or tells the bully “That’s not cool,” or reports the anonymous hate group chat to a teacher.
One kind ally can make all the difference. Felix died believing wrongly that no one at school cared about him; imagine if just one classmate had consistently shown him otherwise. Kindness is the simplest form of courage. It is also contagious and disarming. A bully will back off if even one other person stands with the victim, because the social dynamic shifts.
Standing up is hard, but when youths know their school and community value that bravery, they are more likely to do it. We should celebrate the students who defend others as the true heroes among their peers.
In the end, the fight against youth cruelty and violence is not won in courtrooms or by police. It is won in school hallways, homes, and WhatsApp groups, by infusing those spaces with kindness.
It may sound idealistic, but as we have seen, it is eminently practical. Kindness literally saves lives: it saved Arno from hate, saved that Oregon student from suicide-by-cop, and it could have saved Felix and Mia.
It costs nothing, yet its impact is beyond measure. As that football coach in Oregon demonstrated, sometimes a simple hug or kind word can stop a bullet better than a bullet can. Young people are yearning for connection and understanding.
If we can nourish that need through kindness, we will choke off the oxygen that cruelty and violence feed on. We all youth and adults alike have the power to decide, each day, whether we contribute to the pain or to the healing of others.
Let’s honour Felix and Mia by choosing healing. Let’s create a world where no child believes cruelty is “normal” and where every lonely teen has a kind friend to turn to. The cure for cruelty is in our hands and hearts, it always has been. All we have to do is use it.
